Red Rose Vertigo
by A Slain Immortal
Summary: The story of Harry's sixth year. Includes Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Neville, Dumbledore, Remus, and many others!. Will be an unusual fic, please read. This is my first full - length work. Read and Review!
1. And So It Begins

**A Slain Immortal**

**ASlainImmortal@hotmail.com**

**Written: ****October 4, 2003******

**Read and Review**

Author's Notes (To be read BEFORE reading the story, it may help fill you in.)

This is my first full length fan fiction. I have the main ideas plotted out, but I'm changing parts of it as I go. I'm not a very talented writer, in my opinion, but this represents a good effort at writing a reasonably long story. I try to stick to the canon as much as possible, but I'll add some elements to the story that I feel make the story better, without making it mildly ridiculous, like making Harry God-like would do. This fic will have some ships in it, so let me hint obliquely at them before we start. 

There will be no Harry/ Hermione in this particular fic.

Likewise with Harry/ Ginny.

There will be no slash, simply because I don't think there is any boy out there who could reasonably fit Harry's emotional needs.

That's about it for the Authors notes, but read what I have written before the chapter anyway.

ASI – October 5, 2003

I listened to a variety of music while writing this, and you might like to download the music to enhance the atmosphere. I truly believe that music enhances the atmosphere.

· Museum of Iscariot by Virgin Black

· Sober by Tool

· My Immortal by Evanescence

· Synaesthasia by AFI

· Create the Infinite by Nevermore

· 1776 by Iced Earth

· Under A Killing Moon by Thrice

Rated PG-13 for minor bad language. Nothing a 12 year old couldn't handle.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe was created and is owned by J.K. Rowling and her various minions. I do not own this, but I haven't given up hope that I will.

_Jesus, won't you fucking whistle_

_Something but the past and done_

_Mother Mary won't you whisper_

_Something but the past and done_

"Sober" by Tool

**Red Rose Vertigo**

Chapter 1: And So It Begins

July 1st, 1996. Somewhere in the near vicinity of 6:15 AM.

          Petunia Dursley was a woman of strong morals. She didn't hold with stupid Liberal politics, and she didn't tolerate freaks like those magic people. It was wrong, unnatural. It was against God and the Country, and so it was wrong. For these reasons, Petunia Dursley was ashamed and embarrassed that one of those freaks was related to her, and even worse, was living in her house. If she had had her way, that child really would be attending St.Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. 

And this is why it came as a very great surprise to Mrs. Petunia Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, a woman with a horsy face, long, bony neck, and intense dislike of magic, that when she waved her hand irritably at the dishes in the sink in the course of a shouting at the brat, that they actually _began to clean themselves._ They sat there in the sink, winking innocently in the light, and actually moving of their own volition, cleaning the remains of food off themselves. She stared at them, and the expression on her face mirrored the one on the face of the brat.

Absolutely shocked.

Harry's shock was caused by the fact that his magiphobic aunt had just performed some advanced wandless magic, and he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous- he couldn't do that yet. Following the disbelief came laughter. His aunt, who would gladly have burned witches and wizards alive, had actually performed magic. It was hilarious when you looked at it. After this, he allowed himself to hope. Perhaps, now that she was a witch, --

But No. There was no way it would happen. Years of magiphobia would not disappear just like that. Well, at the very least, this would be interesting.

          Petunia's emotions were rather different, though they began the same way. Complete shock caused by the fact that she was now one of _them,_ a witch. A freak, an unnatural. She could hear Vernon's voice shouting it at her, throwing her out of the house--. Fear. That's what she felt next. Fear that Vernon would find out, that Vernon would throw her out, that her Dudleykins would hate her. Then came disgust and revulsion. She was a witch. A _witch. She was going to hell. It said so in the Bible, the Church would condemn her, she would be alone, dispossessed, and a witch._

          Throughout the absolutely surreal daze that was filling the room and spilling out of the windows, Petunia could hear a faint ringing sound in the background. It sounded like someone shrieking from very far away.

_What the hell is that? She thought, irritably, and the proceeded to wonder why it was the ringing that was annoying her, and not the fact she was a witch._

The incredible stress of the brat's gaze, the dishes still cleaning away, the emotions coursing through her, and that damned insistent ringing caused the only sensible reaction possible in Petunia's body. Petunia Dursley, magiphobe, misomagist, fainted.

And woke up on her bed, with the covers tangled and the large body of Vernon snoring beside her. Her alarm clock was ringing, and it displayed the luminescent pink numbers 6:15 A.M. Time go wake up the brat and have him get breakfast ready. Today was a busy day, he'd have to work a lot, that ungrateful _wizard. But why was it so hard to get up? Petunia looked down at herself and saw she was shivering, clammy and sweaty. _

_Must've had a nightmare, she thought. Ah, yes, she remembered some of it now. Something about… the brat, the dishes, and an annoying shrieking. Ah well. Time to rouse the brat. Petunia got out of bed and departed for the room of one Harry Potter._

The very person of whom we spoke in that last sentence, Harry Potter, lay on his bed staring at the nice-looking ceiling of the room, feeling utterly miserable. The Dursleys certainly were rich, and so his room looked very good, though extremely bare. The Dursleys never bought anything for a _wizard_, did they? But anyway, Harry Potter was miserable, and the reason for this was not the Dursleys horrible treatment of him, though that intensified his pain. Pain was something that Harry Potter was not new to. He had felt the horrible Cruciatus curse multiple times, he had regrown all the bones in his arm, he had run with a broken leg carrying a dead body, he --. 

As we said, pain was not a new feeling for Harry Potter. The pain he was feeling was not physical, but emotional. He had plenty of practice with emotional pain as well, having carried around the guilt and anger of Cedric's death for more than a year. But even that pain dulled, as pain usually does. That pain was now just an ache that he was able to ignore, helped by the assurances of his blamelessness from the various people in his life. However, the pain he felt today was fresh and raw, the grief so unadulterated, that he could not help but cry openly, and it took all his willpower not to throw himself out of the window in hopes of ending the pain, of freeing himself from this guilt that wracked his body.

Harry got up and slowly walked to the window. He looked through it and the pre-dawn sky, with the stars still visible, though there was a noticeable lightening of the sky in the east. The sun would be up soon, and Harry would be back to working for his aunt and uncle, heartless bastards that they were. He hated them. He may not have hated them before, but now he did, with all his heart. They never felt this pain, they were smug, righteous bastards, and Harry hated them for it. He was under no illusions that the feeling was not mutual, for it certainly was.

_Why did you leave me, Sirius? Why did you have to die, and not me? Why couldn't I have been the one to die, so that I would not have to feel this, so that people would be better off. Are you out there, Sirius? Are you watching over me? Harry picked out the star Sirius, the Dog Star. He had learned to recognize it in Astronomy. The very thought of that was enough to cause another wave of grief. He could recall the facts he had learned by reading one of Dudley's textbooks, one time when he was away._

"_Sirius, the Dog Star, is the fourth closest star system to the Earth at 8.1 light years, after the Sun, the Centauri system at 4.2 light-years, and Barnard's star at 6.2 light years. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky, and was worshipped by the ancient Romans…"_

_No, thought Harry bitterly. __Sirius is not 8.1 light years away. Sirius is an entire realm away, separated from me- from all of us- by the one-way barrier of death. He is on the other side of that FUCKING veil. And it's all because of that FUCKING BITCH Lestrange. It's all because of him. Voldemort. No, Harry amended after washing away his anger in the ocean of guilt, _it's all because of me. It's my fault that Sirius was there in the first place, and I as good as killed him. It's all my fault, just like everything else.__

Harry watched the sun rise from the east, its yellowish orange light washing away the pink that lay on the horizon, and its brightness causing the stars to disappear from Harry's view. 

_Goodbye, Sirius. But it was not goodbye, for Sirius would be there in the heavens that right, a blatant reminder of Harry's mistakes. _

Harry turned away from the window to look at the clock, one of the few working pieces of furniture in the room. The luminescent 6:15 told him his aunt would be at his door in a moment, her shrill voice grating on his ears and telling him he better get up and make breakfast. Not that she ever woke him, for sleep was fleeting and tormented at best. 

Breakfast was served at seven, with piles of pancakes topped with butter, honey, and syrup. Well, actually, that was the Dursleys' breakfast, prepared by their resident servant, Harry Potter. Harry's breakfast consisted of a slice of burned toast and some milk. Harry didn't complain at all. He simply ate and went to Aunt Petunia for his chores. When he learned that his chores were to clean the entire house and weed the garden, he showed no expression on his face. Anyone who actually knew him would have gone into a state of panic, but the Dursleys took this as a sign that they were finally breaking him.

Upon returning to his room after the backbreaking labor he was forced to perform, Harry simply collapsed on the bed. He hadn't said a word all day, simply going about his work and then returning to the room. 

_There's no point in expressing your opinions, Harry thought angrily to himself_, you're never listened to anyway. They all tell you you're just a child, you're too young to understand, they'll tell you when you're older, that kind of thing. Plus, you're wrong anyway. You defied them, and look where it got Sirius. Dead. __

He tried to think about what his friends would say about this. He could just picture Hermione's voice telling him that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't blame himself. He pictured Ron telling him that it was all You-Know-Who's fault. Dumbledore telling him Sirius would have wanted to die like this. Rage filled Harry's head. 

_What do you know about how he would have wanted to die? Sirius didn't want to die, he had to so that I could live. And I have to live because I have to defeat Voldemort. No, not defeat. Kill. I have to murder Voldemort. It all comes back to him, doesn't it? Him and me. Him or me. Him or me. Him or me…_

With these thoughts circling in Harry's head, and the effects of sleep deprivation manifesting themselves, Harry drifted into sleep, tossing and turning.

When Harry awoke, it was dusk, and he miraculously felt rested, though still tired. It seemed as though his nightmares had left him for one night. Stretching, Harry walked over to his window and looked out. Privet drive was quiet, though there was some noise from children playing over in Magnolia Crescent. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and only a faint glow remained. There were lights in the houses, and the entire neighborhood had an air of peace and tranquility.

It was already too late for dinner, and Harry felt no inclination to go and ask his relatives for food, so he decided to write a letter. The question was, and what would he write? And to whom? As all his magical supplies were locked away by the Dursleys, Harry settled for a pen and some paper.

Sitting on the floor with the pen in hand and tongue sticking through his teeth, Harry found himself at a loss for what to say or do. He couldn't write to Ron, he wouldn't understand. He wasn't very good with emotions. Hermione would be better, but she would show Ron the letter, and that would cause problems as to why he wrote to one and not the other. He didn't know Ginny well enough to write to her, and he knew that though she would be supportive, she didn't know him well enough either. Neville would probably be better, having lost his parents like Harry, but he would have to establish a friendship first. As for Luna… well, Luna was Luna, and there was no telling what she would say. Harry knew her only in passing, and he had heard enough from Ron about how she was insane. Hmm. This presented an interesting dilemma. Harry wondered briefly why he cared at all about this, it seemed rather stupid. His brain shied away from the topic, however, so he concentrated on the paper at hand.

To whomever it may concern at the Order of the Phoenix:

I am perfectly fine, my relatives are ignoring me as usual. When can I go to the Burrow?

HP

P.S. Say Hi to Professor Lupin… I mean, Remus for me.

After writing to his protectors/ guardians/ overlords, Harry decided that time was one thing he had in abundance, and so he would write to all the people he knew. Hopefully they would keep him company in the long months to come.

Dear Ron,

How are you doing? Is your family alright? I hope nothing has happened to them. I'm coping here, but the Dursleys are being absolute pricks, so it is quite annoying. Have you heard anything about Voldemort? (Harry's hand trembled with rage as he wrote this word) I don't have any access to news here, I'm sure Dumbledore (again the trembling, though not quite as intense as before) has cut me off "for my protection". I'm so bored, do you think you could send me something to occupy myself with?

Thanks,

Harry

P.S. How is WWW going?

The letter to Ron was brief and cursory, and avoided notable important topics, but if there was one thing Harry didn't feel like doing, it was talking about Sirius. Voldemort was hard enough. 

His letter to Hermione was pretty much the same as the one he wrote to Ron, as was the one he sent to Hagrid, though he did ask if there were any missions this summer. Now to the unusual letters.

Dear Ginny,

I do think this is the first time I've written to you, and I've known you – what, five years? It's really a shame that we don't know each other as well as we could. This summer, I have plenty of time on my hands, so I've vowed to write to all the people I know, and answer their letters as well. Are you alright? (Harry avoided mentioning the Ministry adventure; thoughts of Sirius lingered there.) How is your family? Has Ron said anything about you and Dean? If he has, tell me and I'll write him a note. I can't really think of anything to say, but I hope we can be better friends from now on.

Friends,

Harry

Harry thought he was in an absurdly good mood considering his situation. He briefly wondered if someone had cast a cheering charm on him, but dismissed the idea as there were no wizards in the near vicinity. Deciding to make the best use of this period of happiness, he started his note to Neville.

Dear Neville,

I've never once written you a letter, and we were never really good friends. That's why I think you'll be surprised on seeing who this is from. I've decided that I need to keep friendships alive in these times, and I think our experiences (again, no mention of the Ministry) certainly form the basis of friendship. I don't think I've told you this, but I knew about your parents since fourth year. I was asked to keep it a secret. I want to say again, I'm really sorry, Neville. On another note, how is your Grandmother? How are you coping these days? I really hope you're fine.

Write Back,

Harry

Harry reread the line about keeping friendships. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall from where. It was… it was… yes, that's it! Dunbledore had said that, something about how it was more important now than ever to keep friendships strong. The thought of Dumbledore brought some rage into his mind, but he pushed it away. Best not to spoil his good mood. Harry thought through his (very short) list of people who he could write to. There was still Luna, so Harry, not without some trepidation, wrote on the paper:

Dear Luna,

I'll bet you're surprised to be reading this. I know I am. I never thought I'd write you a letter over the summer, as I didn't know you existed until last year, and weren't very good friends even then. Dumbledore said something about keeping your friendships strong in these times, and what we've done together (Still no mention of the Ministry) has made me consider you a friend. I don't know very much about you, so please don't be offended if anything I say here is hurtful. How is your family? I hope your expedition to Sweden to catch a Crumple-Horned Snorckack goes well.

Write Back,

Harry Potter

Harry put the letters in a neat pile on the window and wondered why the hell he was so happy, Sirius was DEAD after all. The tears threatened to leak out of his tightly closed eyes, but Harry didn't let them. He would have to be strong to fight Voldemort, so he may as well begin now. Harry lay in bed for a while, thinking about Sirius and Voldemort and Dumbledore. He couldn't write to Sirius, and Voldemort would kill Hedwig if he sent a letter. That left Dumbledore. Harry got off the bed and grabbed the pen and paper.

Professor Dumbledore,

I don't know if this will reach you, but I hope it will. I want you to allow me to get the Daily Prophet. Even if it doesn't have much news, it'll keep me occupied and make me feel connected. Remember that an idle mind is the Devil's workshop. If I am to be of any use to you, I need to be in reasonably good mental shape.

Your Student,

Harry Potter

Harry abandoned all pleasantries and acted like a student writing to a teacher. Dumbledore was the one keeping him from his friends, from his world, and so he deserved no affection from Harry. Adding the letter to the pile, Harry opened the window and woke Hedwig. 

"Come on, girl, deliver these letters… and deliver the one to Dumbledore last." 

Hedwig nipped his ear and took off, the letters bulging against her leg. Her body was silhouetted against the moon as she flew over the houses of the neighborhood.

Harry, feeling as if his good mood had died, sat down on his bed and began to think. He tried to imagine what the coming year would bring, whether it would bring more death and pain, or whether it would bring what Hogwarts brought to its other students: learning and happiness. But then, Harry Potter could never be a regular Hogwarts student. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, or as he would put it, the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Fucking-Die,-Goddamit. Cursing Voldemort, Harry turned off the lights and tried to fall asleep.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorceror, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, etc. etc. etc, was unhappy. He looked into the mirror that stood in front of him. Carved into the rim of the mirror were the words _Erised__ stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on whosi. The gilded frame seemed to glow even in the dark of the room. The shimmering surface showed the face of one boy sleeping soundly, his peaceful, angelic face marred only by a lightning shaped scar on his forehead._

"If only."


	2. Solutions

**A Slain Immortal**

**ASlainImmortal@hotmail.com**

**Written: ****October 9, 2003******

**Read and Review**

Author's Notes: this is a long, rather slow chapter, but it sets the scene for later. Don't worry it the story is progressing to slowly, it will speed up. I really don't want to leave out too much detail, though. Anyway, short AN this time, so go ahead and read.

Music for this Chapter

Hearshot Kid Disaster by Coheed and Cambria.

Star Struck by Yellowcard

Cruel Angel Thesis, Evangelion Soundtrack

Above Me by Rufio

Jet Black New Year by Thursday

I was in an Emo-ish mood, so there you go!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and his universe, and it's almost certain that I never will.

_Have you ever heard the lyrics he sang?   
In his thoughtful transmission the words lost sentence remain   
Sing his song, sing his song loud_

Hearshot Kid Disaster by Coheed and Cambria

**Red Rose Vertigo**

Chapter 2: Solutions

          July 2nd, 1996, 3:00 AM

The dark velvet sky, broken only by the pinpricks of cold light called stars, hung over the boxy houses of Privet Drive. The new moon left an eerie space in the star filled sky. On his small cot, a boy tossed and turned, his body shaking with spasms of emotion. Crystal tears leaked out of his closed eyelids and wet the tangled bed sheets. His messy hair was damp with sweat, and his breathing was quick and sharp, not at all like the deep, even, breathing of normal sleepers. A scream pierced the soundless sky, waking birds and sparking curses from people awoken by the noise. The curses died out, though, as the reality of the sound penetrated sleep – numbed minds. It was a scream of grief and rage, uncontrolled and so violent that it silenced the cursers, put birds into flight, and scared many children so much they could not sleep that night. It also signaled the overflowing of the bigoted rage that filled Vernon Dursley's mind. 

          _That goddamn boy! He's doing this on purpose, I know he is. I don't care what those freaks at the station said, I'll make him stop!_ Thinking such thoughts as these, it was no surprise that Vernon Dursley forgot that not only did his son owe his life to the boy, but that the "freaks" were checking up on the boy, and could kill him in an instant. 

          Striding into Harry's room, the massive man looked down at the boy. Anyone else would have seen a boy going through such pain that their heart would melt for him in his vulnerable state, but Vernon Dursley only saw a wizard. One of _them. Raising his beefy hand, he slapped the boy forcefully. It was enough to wake Harry, and the expression on his face was one of surprise and misery. Vernon raised is hand once more, but decided against causing further physical harm. So, bellowing like the bull of a man that he was, Vernon addressed Harry._

          "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BOY? WAKING US UP AT THIS HOUR? THINK IT'S FUNNY, DO YOU? WELL, BOY, DO THAT ONE MORE TIME AND I WILL THROW YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE, NO MATTER WHAT YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS SAY!"        Vernon stalked from the room, his presence and actions leaving Harry gutted and empty. He didn't say anything, just rolled back onto the bed and closed his eyes, but not before another tear rolled down his now red cheek.

          The morning light streamed in through the window, its golden rays falling on an empty bed. The usual occupant of the bed was sitting at the scarred wooden desk, head resting in hands and hair falling everywhere. 

          "What am I going to do?" moaned Harry Potter. He was faced with a rather difficult dilemma. Should he tell the Order of the Phoenix what his uncle had done to him, and perhaps get out of this wretched place more quickly, or should he keep it to himself, lest the Order start spouting things about his safety and protection, of which they knew little. Deciding that the best course of action would be not to tell anyone because he didn't want them asking that most annoying of all questions, "Are you all right?" Harry stood up to go down to breakfast. Almost surely the Dursleys would have eaten by now, which would leave him time to eat alone. Perfect, although it was odd they hadn't woken him up.

_Probably because they think I'll hex __Vernon__ for hitting me. _

Just as he was about to pull open the door, he heard a tapping on his window. Outside, there was a large bird with fantastic red and gold plumage. Its wings caught the light and glowed radiantly. The very sight of the bird seemed to cause a rise in Harry's spirit. He felt as though there was someone out there who cared for him, no matter what he thought. Smiling broadly now, he opened the casement window, letting the bird into the room. 

          "Hello, Fawkes. Nice of you to drop by." Fawkes stretched his leg out, and Harry saw there was a letter tied to it. Hoping it contained good news, he fumbled to undo the blue string holding it in place. When the letter was finally undone, Harry looked at it and felt a great surge of anticipation rise in his stomach, for the letter was written in that now-familiar narrow, loopy writing. Along with the anticipation came anger, as well, a small, unreasonable voice in his head asking what right Dumbledore had to be so cheerful-looking in his writing. Telling the voice to go shove itself, Harry began to read the letter, his face comically revealing every emotion going through his head.

Dear Harry,

                             I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but I ask you listen to what I have to say (Harry grimaced).  I will not let your anticipation torture you any longer, so I will give you the bad news and the good news. The bad news is that you will not go to the Burrow this summer (Outrage and Shock). The good new is that you will go to Order HQ instead, where you will meet all your friends (Previous expressions replaced by real Happiness, but this lasts only a moment). There is more bad news: You will not be going there for another three weeks, as the protection on Privet Drive needs that long to keep you as safe as possible (Now there was despair). However, these three weeks will not be like the previous days. We are allowing Ron and Hermione to come stay with you for the three weeks (Joy). Your relatives have agreed (_Probably because they think it will keep me from screaming or hexing them). I sent this letter with Fawkes, so it will get to you by July 2nd. Ron and Hermione will arrive on July 3rd, at 12:00 PM on the dot. They will arrive by Portkey two miles away, and will be escorted to your house by an Order member. _

As for your Daily Prophet subscription, we have never stopped you from having one. You could simply have filled out the card and we'd have let you have it. I've taken the liberty of filling out the card for you. The service will begin tomorrow, and will be delivered to your room by owl. It's prepaid, so you don't have to pay (surprise, slight happiness). 

And now to more troubling matters (apprehension). Harry, the tragedies of war are not only those who perish, (tears, as the thought of Sirius flits through his mind) but also in the friendships destroyed by war (Bewilderment). Two years ago, Harry, you would have cheerfully greeted me had you seen me. Now, I fear that reaction would be rather less kind (_Damn Right, thought Harry, thinking of what Dumbledore made him go through)_. Harry, I admit I made mistakes with you and Sirius. But I ask now, are you willing to put aside you ill feelings toward me until Voldemort is defeated? Failing that, will you trust my judgment in the war? I need to know this, as you are the most important part of the war effort. I know you think that I regard you only as a weapon, that I'm going to use your power and not care about your mind and soul. My conscience will not let me rest when I ponder this topic, for I fear that you may be right. Harry, let me tell you this flatly. You may have been in no mood to hear this in my office, and perhaps you're not now, but I do care for you, and I don't want to hurt you, nor do I enjoy it. I did what has to be done, and though I made mistakes, my intentions were good. Do you trust me, Harry?__

_Emotions were running high, and Harry was unable to process properly. Dumbledore had given him a long speech in apology, asking for his forgiveness or his trust. Dumbledore. Most powerful wizard in the world, Harry's headmaster. But actually thinking made him see what he had been unable to see in Dumbledore's office only a week ago. Dumbledore really did have his best intentions at heart, but he had to make the choices he did for the ultimate defeat of Voldemort. Sighing, Harry made his mental decision and looked at the parchment again._

This parchment has a Truth Spell on it, Harry. Try writing a lie on it, on the back of it. You won't be able to. Only the truth will show up on this parchment, and I want you to know that. Write whatever you want to send in response to this letter on the back, and Fawkes will take it back. If you don't write anything, then I will assume you don't trust me, and I will work to re-establish that trust in any way possible. 

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry regarded the paper with a sense of detached unreality etched in his mind. Dumbledore was asking once and for all. Remembering his earlier decision, Harry decided to try a lie first. Writing

_Severus Snape is my brother_

On the parchment, Harry watched as a line of blue ink scratched it out, leaving the words still visible. He took a deep breath. Hands shaking, he wrote as neatly as he could

_I forgive you, Professor Dumbledore_

And watched the blue line scratch it out. Sighing, he realized the truth spell saw what was in his heart. He'd always believed truth was not absolute, but this spell said he still didn't forgive Dumbledore. It must be that deep inside, he still thought it was partly Dumbledore's fault, even though he blamed himself more. Trembling, he wrote the words

_I trust you, Professor Dumbledore_

On the paper. They remained.

Tying the letter to Fawkes's leg, Harry felt a strange feeling wash over him. There was extreme weariness, mixed with satisfaction and a slight sense of… healing? Harry decided he was too tired for breakfast anyway, so he collapsed on the bad only a few minutes after getting out of it, and falling asleep, his dreams filled with Ron and Hermione's upcoming arrival.

When Harry descended that sweeping staircase of the Dursley residence, he came face to face with Aunt Petunia, who was actually taller than Harry's 160 cm frame. She avoided him, acting like he didn't exist. Harry watched her walk away, nonplussed. 

After a quick breakfast of a single muffin, Harry went outside, trying to get to the park that was on Magnolia Crescent. He figured the anti-apparition wards extended far enough for him to go there without the Order swooping down on him. He stepped onto the grassy field that led to the park, and was running toward the playset when a blast of loud music startled him. It was Dudley, riding around in his new Jaguar with his friends, playing that hideous music extremely loud. It was a song about violence and oppression, and Harry remembered with some anger how Dudley had started saying he was from "the 'hood" and acted like he lived "in the ghetto". Harry wanted to punch him. Dudley was a rich, spoilt white boy living in an affluent neighborhood. He didn't know poverty, violence, and oppression. 

Ignoring the taunts and gestures coming from the blue car, Harry leapt onto the swing and began to propel himself. He loved swings, he always did. Before he went to Hogwarts, he loved the way they made him feel weightless, the way he felt free as a bird soaring away from all his troubles and his horrible home life. After Hogwarts, he realized this was nothing compared to flying, but it was as close as you could get in the Muggle world. Harry closed his eyes and enjoyed the rhythmic feeling the swing, the wind rushing past his face, blowing his hair –

WHAM. Harry landed flat on the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs. He saw Dudley and his gang standing over him, their faces masks of various emotions – Happiness, Amusement, Hate, Disgust, Revulsion, and Pleasure. Harry's blurred vision skewed, and for a moment he found himself in that circle of Death Eaters, their laughter mixed with the high laughter of Voldemort. He could just see Dudley standing there, Dudley and his friends like miniature Death Eaters, taking pleasure in the pain of others. Laughing hysterically, their faces contorted with mirth. It almost made him vomit, their twisted expressions of glee at causing pan. They were the Death Eaters of the Muggle world, Dudley and people like him.

Harry stood up, and couldn't guess what emotions were on his face. Anger, yes, and Disgust, definitely, but also some… Sadness? 

"I saved your life. If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead. Or worse. Remember that. Touch me one more time, and I will hurt you." Harry stalked off, blood streaming from his elbows and chin. Dudley and his minions were stupefied at the thought of a small boy not only saving their fearless leader, but also threatening him. Dudley shook his head.

"Freak"

Harry looked up at the sky as he walked back to the house. He saw a small speck flying towards him, and his first instinct was to catch it like a snitch. As it came closer, thought, he could see it bobbing up and down, and he realized only one thing flew like that. 

"Pig!' he shouted.

The miniature owl swooped down toward him, and he saw two scrolls attached to it. Grabbing them in one hand, and his owl in the other, he ran off to the house.

In his room, Harry opened the letters and read them carefully. When he was done, he smiled and sat on the bed.

Dear Harry,

                   It's nice to hear from you. You're right, we never really did know each other, but I suppose my stupid little crush precluded any possibility of THAT, didn't it? Listen, Harry, I want you to know this. You didn't mention Sirius in your letter at all. I understand how you feel, and as an outsider I may not be qualified to comment, but you have to know that Sirius loved you. When we were at his house over Christmas break, he showed us all how much he loved you in the way he acted. He id dead now, but his love will always be with you, and I want you to know that. 

On a slightly lighter note, I'm not really dating Dean. I only said that to piss Ron off, the git. He's been insufferable about it, too. Urgh. Anyways, I'm sorry if this letter upset you, but I do think you'll be slightly more cheerful at the end of the day. If you don't know why, you'll see soon.

Friends,

Ginny

Harry stared at the letter in shock. Ginny had the courage to come out and say the truth, and he felt better for it. He knew Sirius loved him, but hearing it form someone else made him feel like it was more real. The other letter was in a way more surprising, seeing as how it was from Neville. Then again, he had written to Neville, so it wasn't so surprising.

Hey Harry,

                   It was surprising to receive a letter from you, but I'm happy you sent one. We never really got to know each other, even though we've been sleeping 10 feet away from each other for five years.  I suppose it's because you had friends very quickly into Hogwarts, so you didn't need any more. Anyway, are you continuing the DA this year? I learned an awful lot in that, so I personally hope you are. The Weasleys' are at Order HQ, and I'm there as well, because my Gran wants to be part of the Order. Ginny's done with her letter, and I don't have an owl, so I'm going to stop now.

Friends,

Neville

Harry hadn't given any thought to the DA, but after what happened last year, he was sure that if there was time, he'd definitely do the DA again. Hopefully this time it would be legal. Sighing, Harry turned away from the letters and to his homework. Harry pulled out his trunk, and extracted the necessary schoolbooks and papers. If he was going to make the most of his time spent with friends, he needed to finish his homework. Looking at the sheet that listed all his summer assignments, he was disappointed to see that two of them involved buying and reading a book, and he couldn't very well do that. Harry could imagine the look on the Dursleys' faces if he brought up the topic of Diagon Alley and wizardry. Sighing, he looked at the other homework that he could do.

_Charms and Transfiguration is out. Hmm… That leaves Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Astronomy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Well…_

Harry really, really didn't want to do potions. No doubt Snape's essay would be the most difficult one of the lot. And the fact that his hatred for Snape had grown to gigantic levels didn't help one bit. He'd probably accidentally write something about killing Snape in his essay. That'd be a bit of a problem. Harry decided to get on the Care of Magical creatures assignment, before he read the sheet carefully and saw that it was crossed off, Hagrid having decided enough had happened to justify no homework.

Better do Divination, then. He read the sheet and smiled a little. At least it wouldn't be hard to fake.

_Divination Year 6 Summer Work_

_Make a prediction for what this year will be like for you and you parents. Include at least 12 items. Use your star charts._

Harry only had to make one for himself, as his parents were long dead. The thought of their deaths didn't trouble him as much as it might have. He didn't know them, and the grief at that paled in comparison to the grief at the loss of Sirius. 

_Even though it's my fault they're dead, he thought with much remorse, recalling the prophecy. It all really came down to him, didn't it? Everyone who had died so far in the Voldemort War were his fault. Voldemort had been after him, and had struck at so many to get him. Voldemort didn't care, he enjoyed pain, and all Harry could do was sit and watch. It tore at his soul, to see his own helplessness. It was all because of some stupid prophecy that this was happening. If there was such a thing as Fate (and by now Harry was being forced to believe there was), then it had a sick mind._

He wondered what would happen if – when – the prophecy came to the public. Would he be blamed for all the deaths caused by his existence, or would he be given praise for taking the burden of Voldemort. 

_A problem for another time, I suppose._

He turned back to his Divination homework.

_I'm going to go crazy talking to myself if I stay this way much longer._

Completing his predictions, he read them over. Satisfied that there was enough misery and pain in there, he threw his quill down. 

_Not too far of the mark, I suspect. Unfortunately. _

It was just about lunchtime, so he went down the stairs –

And was greeted by the sight of his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, smiling at him from the dining table.

"Harry!" Hermione was the first to spot him, and she dashed over to him and enveloped him in a hug. She looked much the same as last year, her hair still bushy as ever, and Harry felt a deep affection for his best friend in his heart. Hermione was always a caring one. 

"Hello Hermione. What are you --" He was cut off by her asking him worriedly if he was alright, whether he was having any nightmares, why he hadn't written more in his letters, and how she and Ron had begged to come a day early to surprise him.

Touched, Harry told her he was fine, though he rather avoided her questions. She really did care for him, though.

Ron had watched the whole scene with an unreadable expression, but he spoke now.

"Hey Harry. How's it going?" Harry looked at Ron, opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped. He looked again. Ron looked incredibly handsome. He had grown to six feet tall, and towered over Harry, his well-defined arms showing and his close- cropped hair revealing a good tan. He looked like he'd be making girls swoon within seconds of meeting them. Harry felt a twinge of jealousy in his heart, but he told it to go away, and it obliged.

"Her Ron. Looking good. What did you do?"

Ron turned a little red at this, and muttered something unintelligible, which sounded rather like "worked out" Harry thought this was odd, as he had seen Ron only a couple of days ago. Hermione saved him the trouble of wondering, though, as she replied.

"He's been working out even during the school year Harry. You were too busy to notice, but Ron's been looking like this for a while. Harry squirmed. It was true, he'd been either ignoring or getting angry with his friends all year.

"Listen, guys, I'm really sorry about that, I know I've been a prat, and if there's any way I can make it up to you--"

"Don't worry about it, Harry. We know what was bothering you. All's done now" This came from Hermione, and Harry shot her a grateful look.

_So that's what Ginny meant in her letter. Well, well. It was thoughtful of them to do that. I should be grateful for friends like these, not constantly angry like I was last year. _

It occurred to him that Aunt Petunia ought to be around, so he asked Ron where she was. Ron explained that she'd left after they'd come in, and that Harry ought to have heard the door. Harry remembered hearing it opening and closing, but he had thought it was Dudley. Never mind that now, though, Rona and Hermione were here. The gloom that had settled on him from his predictions was forgotten in the bliss of friendship. Things would not be so bad at #4 Privet Drive from now on.

July 9th, 1996. 7:45 AM

Harry lay awake in bed, contemplating the past week. Ron and Hermione had been wonderful, supporting him whenever they sensed he was down, laughing along with him whenever he felt good. Hermione even went so far as helping him with his homework. They were the picture of true friendship. He was feeling so much better, he might even be back to "normal", whatever that was, by the end of the summer. Then why, oh why, did he feel he was missing something? He felt something odd in their friendship now, a feeling of some unbalance, as though their triangle was no longer equilateral. He couldn't place it however, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.

July 16, 1996. 11:04 PM

Harry lay on his bed, thinking about his friends. His feeling of missing something was gone now, and he felt almost utterly at peace. His friends loved him, and they were there for him. Sirius was gone, but his friends were still there, and they cared for him. He wondered whether Neville and Ginny would be as good friends as Ron and Hermione. They couldn't be as close to him as the others, but they would be true friends, and for that Harry was glad. Harry turned over and tried to sleep, and found it coming surprisingly easily. Perhaps it was the fact that Aunt Petunia was treating him decently because of his friends, but he was slightly less haunted.

This time it seemed like it would last. 

Permanently?

No.


	3. On the Horizon

**A Slain Immortal**

**ASlainImmortal@hotmail.com**

**Written: ****November 21, 2003******

**Read and Review!**

Author's Notes: I'm sorry for the delay in writing and posting this, I had the slight problem of getting the flu and was in bed and dead tired this past week. That and a couple of English projects before that. And some laziness. And volunteer work. And so on and so forth, I doubt you want to listen to the excuses. Never fear, though, as this story is important and will not be discontinued barring death or grievous bodily harm to the author, both of which are unlikely considering my position as a high school student… or maybe that is a high risk occupation. Hmm. Anyways, not too much happens in this chapter, though a lot of buildup does. The next chapter will be out in a couple of weeks, or less if homework abates. Also, does anyone know good fan fiction sites other than ff.net? I'm trying to find some good H/H, H/LL, and N/LL fan fiction, and there isn't much on ff.net.Oh, and check www.afireinside.net out. It's AFI's site, and they are the most kick ass band in the world.

Music:

· Kill Me Quickly by Thrice

· Something Vague by Bright Eyes

· Cross Out The Eyes by Thursday

· Ballad Of A Fallen Angel, Cowboy Bebop Soundtrack

· Wake up by Anti Flag

· Operation Iraqi Liberation (O.I.L) by Anti-Flag

· Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes

Disclaimer: The person who, in the main, owns Harry Potter and all related characters is J.K.Rowling. I am not J.K.Rowling, nor am I Satan, who supposedly owns her soul (according to those religious right people… but screw them), so, therefore, I do not own Harry Potter.

_There's a dream in my brain_

_That just won't go away_

_It's been stuck there since it came_

_A few nights ago_

-- "Something Vague" by Bright Eyes 

**Red Rose Vertigo**

Chapter 3: On the Horizon

Date Unknown. Time Unknown.

It was a black void, a place where there was true blackness – the absence of all color, all light. Had there had been anything here, it would have been impossible to see it in the dark. There was an oppressive silence, a stillness about the place that spoke of things long forgotten, and yet still new. The very atmosphere of the place was one of extreme age yet one of stasis. Anyone there would have thought that the place hadn't changed in the slightest in millions of years. 

          It had been far longer. The time in which this place buzzed with activity was so long ago that it was beyond the conception of the mind. It dwelt in that realm of inconceivability that was inhabited only by special things, things like infinity, eternity, and the square root of minus one. 

          Had anyone been observing this place, they would have been shocked ,then, when a bright white light shone from nowhere onto a smooth black floor, and on that black floor, a red rose gleamed. The rose was perfect in every detail, its large red petals soft and gleaming brightly, though still in bud position. The stem was black, as black as the room it was in. It was a luminescent black, though, unlike the flat black of the room, and it reflected the light in myriad glittering shapes. The thorns on the stem seemed capable of slicing flesh simply by touching them, though no one had seen this rose, ever. The rose stood in a crystal stand that looked like a diamond shaped into a perfect stand for the rose. The stand reflected all the light shone on it, the exact opposite of the room, and so it shone so brightly that to look upon it was to become blind. It was a spellbinding scene, though it was a pity no one would ever see it.

          The rose slowly began to bloom, revealing sixteen perfect petals. The countdown had begun.

July 18, 1996. 1:22 P.M.

"What the hell is that idiot thinking? Saying this was Voldemort's first activity since his rebirth? What was dad's getting bitten then, a tragic accident?" Though Harry agreed with Ron's words, the phrase "tragic accident" brought forth memories of Umbridge, and he could repress a shudder only with considerable difficulty.

"He doesn't want to have to admit that Dumbledore was right all along. He's just going to pretend Voldemort has been alive but inactive or on the brink of death all this while. It looks like Fudge is as stubborn as ever, then." These words of Hermione's brought forth no sound from the boys, though that was probably because a phoenix had just burst through the window. Attached to its leg were a small package and a note from the only person Harry knew would ever have a phoenix. 

Dear Harry,

                   I'm sorry I didn't reply soon to you, but I was worried about the Order. I understand that you don't forgive me, but at least you trust me, which is a start. I am writing to tell you that not only did I get your letter, but that I will not be able to reply to any owls for at least a month due to the fact that we will be strengthening the wards here at Hogwarts (It didn't say who we was, but Harry knew it was the Order). If you need anything, there will always be someone at Headquarters. 

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S: Your birthday present is coming with Fawkes, too. I think you will enjoy it.

The package was wrapped in purple paper with silver stars on it. Sighing slightly at Dumbledore's sense of taste, Harry opened it and gasped. Inside was a small red ring. Attached to it there was a note.

_          This ring belonged to Sirius. It was found in his vault. The ring has no identifiable magical characteristics, but I believe there may be intangible benefits to wearing it. It is up to you what you want to do with it. This ring was obtained illegally, it technically belongs to the Malfoy family, as does all the other Black property. HQ is safe though, we have too many spells on it._

          Harry said nothing to either of his friends, simply putting the ring on and lying down on his bed. Ron and Hermione scrambled for the note, and on reading it they looked over at Harry, the familiar concerned expression resting on their faces. Harry just looked steadily at them, hating the expression. They turned away.

           July 25, 1996. 1:47 P.M.

          Ginny Weasley sat in her room at Order HQ. She wrote a letter with one of the most hideously evil smiles on her face that anyone had ever seen.

          Dear Ron,

                             This is your dear sister Ginny. I just wanted to write to you to give you some absolutely excellent news. The first bit of it is that I'm not really dating Dean. I only said that to piss you off, insufferable git that you are. Here's the even better part of the thing: I'm actually dating Neville. I'm sure that by now you're planning to dismember him for "ruining your sister", but let me assure you that if you make life difficult for Neville, I will never speak to you again. I will also fix it so that you can't have kids with Hermione like you've always wanted to. Oops. I suppose I shouldn't have written that. It'd be horrible if Harry or Hermione read that, wouldn't it? I really hope I don't mistakenly tell Harry, or even mail this to him by accident. That would be a terrible shame, now wouldn't it? 

          Your Loving Sister,

          Ginny

          Humming softly to herself, Ginny gave the note to her new owl, Silver. True to his name, Silver was a sparkling gray owl. He hooted softly and took off. Ginny went over to Neville's room.

          Harry, Ron, and Hermione were engaged in that classical summer pastime of doing absolutely nothing. Not only were they doing absolutely nothing, they were doing it in spectacular fashion as well, with Ron and Hermione swinging on the swings, and Harry asleep on the grass, with the warm summer sun in his face. A slight breeze fluttered his hair, and he was awoken by the sound of several expletives (coming from Ron's mouth) that would have made Mrs. Weasley smack him.

          "What the fuck is this? That bloody bastard is dating my goddamn sister!! When I get my fucking hands on him, I'm gonna rip his fucking head off!" Mercifully, Ron was silenced by Hermione smacking him. Harry took in the scene with sleep-dulled eyes, and as he became more awake, he realized this was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. Ron was clutching his cheek, a large red imprint of a palm there, and a gray owl was fluttering on and off the swing set. Hermione, for her part, was looking somewhere between reproachful and mortified. A letter lay on the ground in between them. Striding over to the two of them, he heard the words "Neville…Ginny… I'll kill him!" and pieced together the situation. He bent down to retrieve the letter, but Ron snatched it up first and tore it into tiny pieces. 

          "Neville better be careful from now on" Hermione whispered to Harry. Ron glared at the two of them.

          "Ginny better watch her back too" he said, and the three of them made their way back to Number Four.

          Harry found two letters waiting for him on his bed. Ron and Hermione were somewhere in the house, and Hermione had said she was going to her room for a moment, so he was alone. Hermione slept in the guest bedroom, which caused a problem for Aunt Petunia. She was loath to let anyone, much less a witch, use that bedroom, but the idea of a girl sleeping in a room with two boys, all three of the adolescents, was enough to make her faint. Harry could well imagine what she thought of that idea. The first letter was in a pale silver envelope, and he decided to open it first. A letter written on pale blue paper fell into his hand, with a lot of writing in a darker shade of blue. He sat down and began to read it.

          Dear Harry,

                             Nice to hear from you. I'm sorry about the interval between letter and response, but I only just got back from our holiday in Sweden, and I found a lot of mail waiting for me. We didn't get a picture or a live Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but we did find some tracks near one of the lakes. Daddy's getting another article in _The Quibbler soon. Did you know that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are well-known in Sweden? A man I met in Stockholm told me that in the far north, where it gets very cold, there are reported to be herds of the Snorkacks. It's fascinating, really._

          I was touched by your letter. The man who died in the Department of Mysteries - he was your godfather, wasn't he? I remember how I felt when my mother died. I saw her die, you know. She had the most wonderful expression on her face. It was kind of a feeling of expectation, really. Don't worry about him, Harry. He is with his friends and loved ones now. And he will always remain with us, in our hearts. You won't forget him, and neither will anyone else who was with us that night. BE glad you have someone like that, willing to die for you.

          Also, all my stuff that got stolen on the last night turned up again. It was rather curious, really. Anyway, I must go now, so write back to me.

          Your friend,

          Luna

Much as Harry appreciated Luna's letter, he wished she hadn't reminded him about Sirius. He had been in such a good mood before. He looked at the ring on his little finger, and sighed. Mulling over Luna's ability to switch topics from serious to mundane without any adverse effects, he picked up the other letter. This one was written on plain paper in black ink, and had only thirteen words on it.

We will pick you up one day before your birthday at 11:00 A.M.

          Ron and Hermione were downstairs, trying to make lunch using only Muggle methods. To any observer, the scene would have been hilarious. Hermione, never one to cook much, was doing fairly well at making some spaghetti. Ron, however, was extraordinarily clumsy, and had nearly set the kitchen on fire. Only some quick thinking from Hermione had saved the house from burning. The Dursleys' refused to make food for the Trio, and they trio didn't want to eat with the Dursleys', so things worked out fairly well. They had the radio on as well, and Hermione could hear some stuff about how the President of the United States was coming to Britain. Humming lightly to some jingle on the radio, she turned back to the stove.

July 30th, 1996. 10:45 A.M.

          The three of them stood in the living room of the Dursley house, while Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley sat stiffly on the couch. No one was sure how the Order was going to arrive. Harry knew they would be inconspicuous, but he had a lot of difficulty convincing Vernon that this was the case. Petunia sat with no expression on her face, and Dudley (whose experiences with all things wizarding had not been pleasant in the least) cowered in a corner, his massive bulk quivering in a disgusting manner. Harry could barely suppress his laughter, and Ron and Hermione were doing an even worse job, with frequent shared looks causing them to burst into laughter. Vernon then proceeded to glare at them, which only made them laugh harder.

          At exactly 11:00, the doorbell rang. Harry went to open it, and saw a man of average height, with thinning hair standing in the doorway. The man had a toothbrush moustache eerily reminiscent of Bartemuis Crouch, Sr., and was wearing a dark suit with a plain black tie. He was the image of respectability. When he spoke, Harry was shocked to hear Moody's voice issuing from his mouth.

          "Stop gawking, Potter, and let me in." Harry, who had had fairly little contact with the wizarding world over the summer, was shocked into reality by the voice. A mad thought flashed through his mind.

          "Prove you really are Moody." He said boldly, looking directly at the man. The man smiled, though it wasn't the hideous Moody smile, but a small one that quickly receded as if it was not welcome on the normally grave face.

          "Good thinking, Potter." The man stepped inside and shut the door, and in full view of the Dursleys, he melted away into Mad-Eye Moody, complete with wizards' robes. The Dursleys' made the usual squeaks and sputters at the sight of magic, and Vernon began to puff up on seeing Moody, who had threatened him at King's Cross. 

          "You! You—you and your kind aren't welcome here! Take them and leave! Hurry!" Moody looked steadily at Vernon, then at Dudley, who was quivering much harder. He smiled a little. He casually stuck his middle finger in the air, and proceeded to wave it in Vernon's face. Turning to Harry, he told them to get their stuff. On seeing that all was ready, he took out his wand and waved it at the three of them, concentrating all the time. Harry looked at Hermione, as if searching for an explanation, but was shocked to see her replaced with Petunia. Hermione's voice came forth though, and Harry realized this was an illusion, just like Moody's banker image. He became aware of the considerable noise issuing from the Dursleys at being given the finger, and also seeing copies of themselves where three young wizards previously stood. Moody shifted into his banker image, levitated the trunks, and turned them invisible. Casually flicking off the Dursleys' once more, he walked outside, disguising his wand cleverly. 

Harry/Vernon, Hermione/Petunia, and Ron/Dudley followed. Outside was a medium-size black car. Moody opened the doors, and the three got in. Without removing his disguise, Moody began to drive the car away form Number Four, Privet Drive.

The ride was fairly cheerful, though it became less and less so as they neared London, and therefore Grimmauld Place. They couldn't stop ogling their new bodies with a kind of amused disgust, Ron in particular. Moody said very little, concentrating on fooling anyone who might be stupid enough to tail them, as well as trying to keep the "damn Muggle contraption" on the road. 

After about an hour and a half, they came to Grimmauld Place, and Moody cast another spell that made it seem as if the Dursleys got out of the car with the banker, and the car waited patiently with a chauffeur inside. The Dursleys then went to a mailbox and opened it, taking something from inside, then got into the car again and drove away. The reality was, though, that the "Dursleys" and the banker stepped into a house that appeared out of nowhere, and the door shut behind them.

Had there been any telepaths around, (which, thankfully, there weren't) they would have picked up the dark, sad, and angry thoughts radiating off "Vernon Dursley" in waves. 

End Notes: I love the scene where Moody flicks off the Dursleys, I can just picture them gaping in shock while the others calmly walk away. Um… other than that, not much to say really, I just have an obsession with roses, hence the use of the rose for the prophecy. In fact, my desk in my room has roses on it. There's this thing you can do where you cut off the bottom of the stems and the put it in some water with food coloring in it, and the rose will change color. I put in black food coloring, so I have these awesome red and black roses. So, yeah, that's about it.

Random Stuff: My hair was briefly a deep purple streaked with blue. My brother's school had a carnival, and I heard they had hair dying, so I went over there and got it dyed. My mom was PISSED when she saw it though, it was rather funny.

Next Chapter: Lots of fun stuff! It'll be a long chapter, that's for sure. Reactions to Grimmauld Place and its inhabitants, A few surprises in the SHIP department, and lots of emotion. I think you'll like it if you didn't like the boringness of this chapter. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The End  
  
  
  
(for now)


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